


Cinis Pulvis et Nihil

by astro_noms



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Hamilton
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-08
Updated: 2005-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astro_noms/pseuds/astro_noms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of his greatest fantasies was giving Anita a gun while he hunted her. Now it looked like he'd get the chance, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinis Pulvis et Nihil

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended to be a prologue to a longer crossover series, but it stands alone as it is.
> 
> The Latin in the chapter title is from an inscription on a tomb, "hic jacet cinis pulvis et nihil," meaning "here lies dust, ashes, and nothing."

It had been 20 minutes since he came home, and he had yet to move from where he stopped in the entrance to the living room. He knew what he was looking at, having seen scenes like this before, but something in his mind refused to accept that he was seeing it here, in his home. He stood in the doorway and listened to the phone ring. He knew that he should ignore it, that he should take care of what was in the room and leave, disappear somewhere he couldn't be found, but something made him walk to the phone, his shoes sticking to the wet floor, and answer the phone.

"Edward, this is Jason. Jason Schuyler."

The name was unfamiliar, and he wondered how a stranger got his private number. A thought flickered through his mind - he should repaint the room. There was too much red in it right now, and it clashed with the rest of the décor.

"I got your number from Anita." Ah. One of the werewolves from St. Louis. Now he had a face to go with the voice and the name. There was still the question of why Anita would give someone his number.

"What can I do for you, Jason?"

"It's Anita. We need your help."

"What's going on?"

"It'd take too long to explain over the phone. We just really need you to come to St. Louis. Please."

"I've got something to take care of here first, but I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up the phone, the red smears he left behind standing out against the white receiver. Slowly, methodically, he walked to his room and packed. Enough weapons and ammo to last him for a while, every piece of it tried and tested in combat. A couple of changes of clothes, some personal toiletries, nothing more.

If he needed anything else, he could always pick it up from one of the numerous caches he had scattered around the country. He took the bags out to the car in the garage, and then headed back inside the house.

There was only one thing he can do right now, and a small part of him was relieved at the twinge of sorrow he felt at what he had to do. There were several cans of gasoline in the garage, and he retrieved a couple of them along with a black bag. He soaked everything with the gasoline and set semtex charges everywhere, connecting the lead wires to a single detonator. He finished in the living room, setting three more charges and emptying the last of the gasoline. The gas fumes quickly overpowered the sickly sweet smell that he'd been taking shallow breaths through his mouth to avoid.

At the door, he stopped and looked back into the living room. He went through a mental checklist, making sure he had taken care of everything - papers, photos, anything personal which could be used against him. He'd laid out Donna's body on the floor in front of the fireplace, and Peter and Becca on each side of her. The sheets he'd covered the bodies with were already soaked with blood, almost black where they touched the torn throats and clawed-up bodies. The explosions and the fire would take care of them, making sure they wouldn't rise or be brought back in any other way. He wondered if their deaths had anything to do with whatever was going on in St. Louis, but he couldn't see any connections between his family and Anita.

He got in his car and drove out of the garage, heading out of town. He gave it about ten minutes, and then reached for the small remote control on the passenger seat.

***

In St. Louis, he checked into a motel, and then stopped by Anita's house, only to have the wereleopards inform him she wasn't there. He could tell that there was more to the story, both by the tones of their voices and the way they avoided looking him in the eyes.

The Circus of the Damned was his next stop. There were "closed" signs everywhere, and that was enough to tell him something was really wrong. Jason met him in the parking lot, looking as if he hadn't slept in days. The scar on his face hadn't healed yet, and it bisected his features in an irregular line of pink skin.

"We can't go there, it's not safe. The entire place is pretty much ready to be bulldozed." He got into Edward's car and buckled his seatbelt. "Asher and Nathaniel are waiting for us at the hotel. I'll tell you which way to go."

They drove through the city in silence. Jason was unwilling to tell him anything until they arrive, and Edward was content to wait.

***

In the hotel room, Asher stood by the window, his face hidden in the shadows and hands clenched into fists. Nathaniel was curled up on the bed, huddled under a blanket pulled tight under his chin, staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused. He looked traumatized - his entire body wound tight, like a spring.

"What the hell happened?"

"The council," Asher told him. "With the triumvirate at full power, they felt Jean-Claude was too much of a threat. They sent their people to take St. Louis from us."

"And what, he just rolled over and let them take it? Where is he, anyway?"

"Jean-Claude is dead," Asher's voice cracked slightly. "As are most of the vampires who were under his command, and over a dozen werewolves and wereleopards. Monsieur Zeeman is dead as well."

"If Jean-Claude is dead, in this attempt to take the city from him, how is it that you're still here? Shouldn't you be dead, or at least run out of town?"

"We called in all the favors anyone ever owed us," Jason said. "Asher was out of town when it happened, and he brought help. We fought them off, retook the city. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough."

"So where is Anita? What is it that you need my help with?"

Jason avoided meeting Edward's eyes as he stepped forward. He sat on the bed next to Nathaniel, and the younger man flinched when Jason's hand brushed his shoulder.

"She's not exactly dead," he told Edward. "They took her first. Made her into a vampire, to destroy the triumvirate, to destroy Jean-Claude's power base. Only they didn't realize that it was likely to destroy Jean-Claude as well."

"Where is she?"

"We don't know. We haven't seen her since before she was taken, two months ago. But we knew she had a living will, and she specified that she wanted you to stake her. That's why we called. We would have called earlier, but things were a little... hectic. We didn't even know Anita wasn't dead until she attacked Nathaniel three nights ago." The wereleopard flinched at the mention of his name. "She ripped out his throat. When we found him, he was almost dead. When he recovered enough to talk, he told us it was her. I know that she had a living will, and she specified that she wanted you to stake her. That's why I called."

Edward nodded, recalling the promise he made her a long time ago. He stood, and started to head for the door. "I'll take care of it."

One of his greatest fantasies used to be giving Anita a gun while he hunted her. Now it looked like he'd get the chance, after all.

***

Before he left St. Louis, Jason showed him Anita's will. The wording was precise, leaving nothing to the imagination. In the event she ever became a vampire, Anita wanted him to stake her, cut off her head and take out her heart. Each part of her was to be burned separately, and the ashes of each part were to be scattered over a separate body of water. He read through the will, and then handed the paper back to Jason, assuring him that he would do whatever was necessary.

It took him two weeks to track Anita down, but eventually he found her. She led him on a merry chase - first to her father's house, then to the cemetery where her mother is buried, then to the coast, and finally back to St. Louis, to Richard's house. The building looked fine on the outside, but the inside bore signs of smoke and fire damage. Everything was still standing, though, and he finally found her there, in the basement below the house, windows boarded up to keep the sunlight out.

He went downstairs just before sunset, waiting for her to wake up before he finished things. Something inside him wanted to talk with her, see how different she was from the Anita she used to be. He supposed in the end, it would make things easier - he'll see that the real Anita – his Anita – was gone, and the thing wearing her face and body had to be put down and destroyed. A small part of him wanted to ask if she had anything to do with Donna and the kids being killed, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was almost afraid of what the answer could be.

Now, he stood over her, the sun just about to set. She was lying on a single cot, her normally pale skin turned even paler in death. There was an unearthly, cruel beauty to her that hadn't been there before, and Edward knew the absence of Anita's humanity was the cause. She was truly one of the monsters now, and he felt nothing at the thought of plunging a stake into her heart and cutting off her head.

He decided to just get things over with, decided not to wait for her to wake. It would only complicate things unnecessarily. He raised the stake over his head, ready to bring it down and into her heart - and then she woke up.

With a howl, she threw herself off the bed, rolling onto the floor and away from him.

He watched as she sprung to her feet, her movements unnaturally smooth and quick. He went after her, trying to back her into a corner, but she pushed him out of her way, leaving him with his back to her. He turned around to see her standing on the opposite side of the room.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find me, Edward," she said. "Didn't think it would be this long."

"I found you, didn't I?" His voice was calm and even. "Doesn't matter how long it took."

"You sound as if I were already dead, Edward. You may have found me, but surely, you don't expect me to just lie back down and let you kill me?"

"It's what you wanted," he told her. "Before the monsters got you. Before they turned you into one of them."

"I was a monster long before this, Edward. You should know, you helped make me the way I am."

"I may have helped make you what you were, but I had nothing to do with you turning into a bloodsucker."

"Oh, come on, Edward, you don't believe that anymore than I do. Isn't there a part of you, deep inside, deep under all that posturing and playing the ice cold killer, that feels like you should have done something to save me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You told Olaf I was your soul mate. Shouldn't you have done more to protect me?"

"What did you want me to do, Anita? Come to town, kidnap you away from Jean-Claude and Richard, save you from them so that you wouldn't be in danger?" He took a bit of perverse pleasure in watching her wince when he mentioned her dead lovers.

"You bastard," she choked out and flew at him, all teeth and fingers hooked into claws. Somehow, he didn't quite know how, she managed to get the stake away from him, tossing it across the room. As she forced him to the floor, there was a brief struggle and then he was completely disarmed, because she was moving far too fast for him to be able to reach any of the weapons he had on him before she took them off him.

They wrestled on the floor for a bit, banging into the bed and some of the other furniture scattered around the basement. Finally, Anita straddled him, and pinned his hands above his head.

"Did you mean what you told Olaf? That you think I'm your soul mate?"

"I did," he said. There was no point in lying.

"And what about the other thing? That we could never be together because we were too similar?"

"You're a part of my soul, Anita. What more could I want?"

"What about now?"

"Now? You're just a monster now. Nothing more than something to be killed."

She ground her hips down, leaning forward so that her chest was practically molded to his.

"I've seen the way you looked at me, when you thought I wasn't looking," she whispered in his ear. "You've wanted me from the very beginning. Wondered about what it would be like to take me to your bed. You don't strike me as the kind of man to be satisfied with just good old missionary position. I mean, you can't get much beyond plain vanilla from Donna. She doesn't strike me as the adventurous type." She licked a trail from his ear down his neck, and into the open collar of his shirt, then looked up, a smirk on her lips. "Then again, it's always the quiet ones that surprise you. Tell me, Edward. Does Donna like to spice things up?"

He flipped her over in a moment of rage, pinned her to the floor with his own body, one hand trying to hold her down, the other fumbling for the stake, the other weapons too far to reach. His fingers closed on it and he raised it up, preparing to drive it down into the vampire's heart. She caught his hands just inches from her chest and held them there without much effort. "What's the matter, Edward? Did I hit a sore spot?" She took the stake from him, tossed it away again, then writhed under him, moving until he was lying on top of her, his legs between hers. "Tell me, Edward. Tell me about Donna." Her voice dropped into a lower, more breathy register, taking on a dark, seductive tone.

"Why do you want to know? What does it matter, anyway?"

"I'm curious what it is that allowed her to snare you. I mean, I always thought that whole 'we're too much alike' thing was bullshit. If we'd both wanted to, we could have had a great time. Instead, you ended up with lily-white Donna. What made her so different?"

"I didn't come here to talk about Donna," he said. "I came here to kill you."

"And that's going _so_ well for you, Edward." Anita laughed, and twisted her body under his so that her legs are spread wider, her knees raised up on both sides of him. She allowed him to hold her arms above her head, but it was obvious that she was in control. "Why don't you want to talk about Donna, Edward? I thought you cared about her?"

"I care enough about her not to discuss her with a monster," he practically spat the words in her face, and released her arms, trying to pull away from her and sit up. A glimmer of anger flashed in Anita's eyes, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him to stay where he was.

"I'm not a monster, Edward," she told him. "No more than you, anyway." She threw him off her with a hiss, and followed him until she was straddling him again. "I'm bored with this conversation. And I'm hungry. We'll talk some more later." The last thing he saw was Anita's fist, coming towards his face.

***

When he came to, he assessed the situation. Anita had tied him to a chair, cuffing his hands with his own handcuffs, and using a long coil of rope to secure him to the chair. Vampire or not, she didn't take any chances, making it difficult for him to move, making escape easier said than done.

He tried anyway, and was still exploring his options when Anita came back into the room. She was less pale now, and he had no doubt that her body was warmer, too.

She stood in front of him, licking her fingers clean. "It's surprisingly easy to find a willing donor, if you know where to go, even with the Council scare a couple of months back." She grinned around the index finger she was sucking on. "Unfortunately, I had to let the poor boy go before I took too much. The next one I found had already fed someone else, so he was too weak for me to feed properly. And then I couldn't find anyone else who suited me. So I thought to myself, why not just go back to Edward?"

"I will not let you feed on me, Anita," he said, knowing that in his situation, he wouldn't have much to say about it should she decide to do it. And she knew it too, by the look of the smirk on her face.

"Oh, Edward," she said, chiding him. "I've had enough blood for one night. It's needs of a more... intimate nature that I'm talking about..." She trailed a hand over his cheek, and he felt a strange warmth rising in his body.

"What...?" he tried to speak but she stopped him with a finger on his lips.

She produced a knife from somewhere, and cut the ropes, leaving only the handcuffs on his wrists. When his legs were free, she kicked his feet apart, and straddled his lap. It barely took more than a flick of her wrist to rip his t-shirt to shreds, exposing his chest. She trailed her hand over his bare skin, and the warmth he felt earlier rose up inside him again.

"What is that?" It was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

"You like it? It's called the _ardeur_. It used to be hard to control – I had to make sure I fed it regularly, otherwise it made things rather interesting. Now, I can raise it in anyone I touch, human, vampire, or shifter, and not be affected by it myself, unless I want to... I can make them want me so badly that they would kill for a chance to be with me. Some have, actually. That was an unfortunate mess." As her hands trailed over his skin, he felt himself getting hard, and arched up into her touch despite himself. "See? I can even make you want me."

Her eyes were glazed over, and Edward saw an opportunity. The cuffs around his wrist were tight, but he twisted them as far as he could. It was enough for him to get a grip on one of the wooden pieces that made up the back of the chair he was sitting in. The motion pressed his body into hers, and she leaned forward, nuzzling his neck, making it hard for him to think.

"What are you going to do with me, Anita?" He asked her as she trailed her hand over his face and neck, making the heat inside him rise till it was almost intolerable.

"What would you like me to do with you, Edward?" Her voice was still low and husky, and he suddenly wondered what it would sound like calling his name in pleasure.

He swallowed the impulse to try and find out. "I'd like you to let me go. Let me get on with what I came here to do. Let me fulfill your last request."

"You don't seriously expect that I'll just let you go and kill me, do you?" She pulled back from him, incredulous.

"It was worth a shot," he allowed a small quirk of his lips. "You seemed pretty open to suggestions."

"I'm not stupid, Edward. I know you'll try to kill me the first chance I get."

"You know me, Anita. I always get the job done."

"Is that all I am to you, a job?"

"Your living will specified that you wanted me to stake you in the event you became a vampire. I'm here to fulfill that request."

"I don't think so." She looked him in the eye, suddenly serious. "Tell me, Edward, did you ever feel anything for me?" She laid a hand flat on his chest, and he felt the burn spreading out from where she was touching him. "Did you ever think of me as more than a protégé, or a fellow assassin, or a friend?"

She shifted in his denim-covered lap, and his breath came out in a shuddering sigh as she ground herself down on his erection. He twisted his hand a little further in the handcuff bracelet, getting a better grip on the wooden beam, letting the pain distract him from the lust that threatened to overcome him.

"No," he told her. "You were my soul mate, the other half of me. To make it anything more would spoil that.."

"Liar," she said softly as she leaned in. Her hand was still splayed out on his chest, and when her lips neared his, he strained to lean forward to kiss her. The awkward position made his shoulders twinge in pain, and he tried to pull back from the kiss, but Anita followed, pressing her entire body closer to his, devouring his mouth. He twisted his hand again, but his body barely registered the pain this time.

Anita's hands moved up to his face, and she pulled away from the kiss. "Tell me the truth, Edward. Tell me how you feel about me."

"I already told you," he choked out as she moved in his lap again and he felt his hips rise to meet hers.

"You tell me that you never thought of me in a sexual way, but we both know that you want to fuck me right now." She leaned forward to nuzzle at his neck again, kissing her way down his chin to where his neck met his shoulder. When he felt her stop there and lick the skin over his pulse point, he twisted his wrist a little more. The metal cuff dug into his skin, probably breaking it with the amount of pressure he was putting on it. The pain cleared his mind enough that he could look her in the eye and answer her.

"I don't fuck the monsters, Anita. That's your area of expertise."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she snarled furiously. In one quick move, she was standing in front of him, glaring. There was no warning before she backhanded him, hard enough to send him flying backwards, the chair splintering under his weight. The pain of the impact cleared his mind enough for him to realize that he was now lying on top of what was probably the only weapon available to him.

Anita stood over him, fury in her eyes. Whatever she was about to do, it didn't happen, because she stopped and sniffed at the air.

"You're bleeding," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Are you hurt?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't want you hurt, Edward. I just want you to admit the truth."

"I've told you the truth, Anita," he told her as she knelt over him and moved him onto his side to examine his wrists. A quick move of her hand and the cuffs were separated, the hinges between the bracelets broken. Edward tried to grab one of the pieces of splintered wood, but she noticed and pulled it out of reach.

"As long as you keep lying to me, you won't get a chance to try and kill me."

"So what's stopping me from telling you what you want to hear and then killing you?"

"I can tell you're lying, Edward. Your heartbeat speeds up, almost imperceptibly, but I can hear it. Your own body is giving your lies away, Edward, no matter how hard you try. Just tell me the truth, and we can get on with what you really came here for."

"I don't want you, Anita. I never have. I meant what I told Olaf, but that was it."

She straddled him again, pinning his hands by his sides with her knees, immobilizing him. She kissed him, and he kissed her back, the heat in his body rising again, threatening to burn him alive. When she abandoned his mouth and moved down his neck and onto his chest, he opened his mouth to tell her to stop, but was surprised to hear himself moan instead.

"Please..." His body reacted on its own, back arched and head thrown back.

"Please what, Edward? Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you? Or maybe you just want me to bite you?" Her voice became husky and low, and she swiped her tongue in a long line from his stomach to the long clean line of his exposed neck. She stopped when she reached his pulse point, again, and closed her mouth over it. He felt her teeth break the skin and moaned in pain as she drank.

She pulled away, and licked her lips, then leaned in to kiss him. He tried to pull away, but her hands on the sides of his face stopped him. As her hands caressed his face, he felt the heat rise in his body again, this time taking over completely. He opened his mouth when he felt her tongue on his lips, and when she slid into his mouth, she tasted vaguely metallic, familiar. He'd tasted his own blood often enough, and it didn't bother him in the least when he responded to the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, demanding more.

When she broke the kiss and slid down his body to undress him, he did nothing to stop her, arching into her touch when hand closed around his cock. She took him into her mouth, and he cried out at the sensations. He could stop himself from thrusting upwards, seeking more of her mouth's wet heat. Her hands on his thighs pushed him back down and held him there, but she took him deeper in anyway. He suddenly realized hands were free, and the only thing he could think of doing with them was to twine them in her hair.

He lifted his head to look at her when she pulled away, and saw that she'd gotten rid of her clothes. She crawled up his body, naked, her pale skin almost glowing in the dim light of the room. There as a smile on her face, a cold, predatory look that sent shivers through him. She bowed her head low, so that her lips touched his chest. Edward hissed as she grazed his skin with her too-sharp teeth, worrying at a nipple, and then biting into his shoulder. He cried out again when she closed her lips over the spot where she bit him earlier, running her tongue over the wound.

Anita reached down and guided the tip of his cock inside her, and then stopped moving completely. He looked into her eyes and felt her enter his mind, breaking through all the shields he'd ever built up. At that moment, he was completely defenseless, completely in her grasp. She bent her head to his neck and bit him again, and this time, there was no pain, only pleasure. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down on him, thrusting into her as she drank his blood.

It was almost like a fight, the sex between them. Anita pulled back from his throat and rode him, her fingers clawing at his skin, and he kept his grip on her hips, fingers digging in so hard a normal human would have bruises for days. The _ardeur_ was riding them both, driving them into each other, the hunger refusing to be satisfied. A sudden tightening of her legs stopped him from moving, and her hands grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

"Tell me, Edward. Tell me how you really feel about me." He tried to keep going to satisfy the _ardeur_ still burning inside him, but she held him in place, her body wrapped around his, holding him like a vise grip. "I won't let you move until you tell me the truth, Edward."

"Why can't you just reach into my mind and take the truth if you want it so badly?"

"Because I want to hear it from you, Edward. Keeping secrets like that isn't healthy, even for you."

"I already told you the truth, Anita..." The _ardeur_ flared up again, and he lost track of what he was going to say, the heat driving all rational thought from his mind.

He flipped them over, unmindful of the hard floor and wooden splinters on the floor. None of it was enough to hurt Anita, some part of his mind informed him, and he pinned her to the floor with his body, leaning down to kiss her. As he moved from her lips to her neck, he let his teeth graze the scarred skin and mirrored the bites she gave him. He didn't break the skin, but even the not-so-gentle bites he was leaving seemed to be driving Anita into a frenzy. She writhed under him, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Her skin was hot against his, warmed both by the earlier feeding and the blood she took from him, and he pressed himself close to her, wanting to touch as much of her as he can. His hands slid from where they were holding her hands over her head down to her hips, and under her ass, lifting her up so he could thrust deeper. She moaned, a sensuous sound coming from deep inside her, and it only made him thrust harder.

There was something warm trickling down the side of his neck and he realized the bite was bleeding again. She latched her mouth onto it, lapping at the blood, sinking her teeth into it again. He felt her sucking at the wound in rhythm with his heartbeat, and every pull of her mouth was like a pull at his body. He thrust harder, wanting to be deeper inside her, and then her mouth was gone from his neck, and her body tensed around him as she threw back her head and screamed as the orgasm took her.

Her fingers dug into his back, leaving bloody scratches, and he hissed at the pain, but it only made him fuck her harder, wanting his own release. She thrust back up at him, eagerly opening her body up for him, hands drawing nonsensical patterns in the blood on his back. He let go of her and used his hands to raise himself up a bit. When she clenched her body around him, his arms slid out from under him and he ended up with his face hidden in the crook of her neck.

"Anita…" he mouthed against her neck, tasting the sweat of their combined exertions. Harder, and faster, his body took over, and then he was coming, thrusting as hard as he can. Anita clawed at him again, arching under him, coming again. His hand brushed something sharp on the floor and he looked up to see a splintered piece of the chair he was sitting on before. He was still thrusting into her as he closed his fingers around it and raised himself up on his other arm.

She opened her eyes just as he was bringing the stake down on her chest, and not even her vampire speed was enough to help her. There was a dull tearing sound as the splintered wood broke through the skin and slid past her ribs into the heart. She shrieked, throwing him off her, and clawed at the stake, but it struck true and there was nothing she can do.

"Why? I know you love me, Edward, why would you kill me?"

He struggled to his knees and watched as she writhed on the floor, hand stretched out towards him.

"You were a part of my soul, Anita. And you've been corrupted, turned into one of the monsters. I'd rather have a piece of my soul missing than tainted."

"No, Edward, please, don't. I don't want to die." She was pleading, her voice growing weaker.

"You're already dead, Anita." Edward walked over to where she'd thrown his weapons into a pile and pulled out the wickedly curved parang knife he'd brought, similar to the one he'd given Anita. The blade held in his hand, he walked over to where Anita was lying, not moving anymore. Her eyes were still open, and she followed his movements as he knelt beside her.

"Tell me something. Did you have anything to do with Donna and the children being killed? Did you do it?"

"If I tell you…" She coughed, blood staining her lips. "If I tell you, will you still kill me?"

He nodded. "You know I will."

Her face distorted with anger and hatred. "Then go to hell, Edward. You can spend the rest of your life wondering, for all I care."

Fury and grief choking his throat, he raised the blade over his head and brought it down on her neck. The blood sprayed from the wound, splashing him and the floor around them. The head rolled away, and he did his best not to look at it. Now that Anita was dead, there was still one more thing to do. He yanked the stake out from her heart and tossed it to the side

By the time he was done hacking through her ribcage to get at her heart, he was covered in Anita's blood. A glance at the small window showed him that dawn is coming. It was still dark enough outside that he has a chance to duck unseen out to his car to grab the rest of the supplies he needed – body bags, a bag with a fresh change of clothes and things to clean up with.

He put the head, the heart, and the body into separate body bags; and packed his weapons up as well. When everything was stowed away and ready to be carried out, he cleaned himself up – washed the blood off under the faucet in the corner and dried himself off. He'd clean out the bite marks later, when everything else was taken care of. Once he was dressed in clean clothes, he carried everything out – the equipment first, followed by the body bags. That done, he made one last trip to the basement, where he hooked up a hose to the faucet and carefully rinsed all the blood of the floor. If the house had been more damaged, he'd have rigged it with explosives, but in the residential area where it stood, discretion was the better option.

 

***

 

Jason, Nathaniel, and Asher had asked to be involved in the disposal of Anita's body, asked him to bring her back to be cremated. He didn't trust them, though, didn't trust them not to try and bring her back. He attended to the cremation himself, and then holed up in a motel in some small, no-name town to take care of the last thing before he disposed of the ashes.

The supplies were laid out on the side of the bathtub: several bottles of holy water, and a large silver cross. He took off his clothes and got into the tub, sitting down. The wound on his neck was a day and a half old, but since the vampire who gave it to him was dead, he hadn't worried about any possible consequences. Still, it had to be done, and he took a deep breath as he reached for the first bottle. He traced his fingers over the bite mark, and closed his eyes as memories flooded his mind. He fought against them, but his body reacted anyway, and he felt himself get hard as the images of his encounter with Anita played out in his mind.

He shook his head and looked down, one hand clutching the bottle of holy water, one hand softly stroking his cock. He closed his eyes for a moment to clear the images out of his head, and then uncapped the bottle. He'd done this before, not to himself, but to Anita. Normally, cleaning out a vampire bite took two or three days, but just like Anita made him do it all at once, he was planning to just get it done and over with. He gritted his teeth, tensed his body against the pain he knew was coming, and poured half the contents of the bottle over the wound on his neck.

The pain was excruciating, similar to the last time someone held a red-hot piece of metal against his skin. He bit down on his lip to stop himself from screaming – after all, it wouldn't do to call attention to himself – and tasted his blood on his tongue. After the pain faded, he reached for his belt, and loops it around his head, passing the leather through his mouth. Now at least he had something to bite down on instead of his lip. Once he felt ready, he emptied the bottle and forced himself not to scream or black out from the pain.

It took three of the small bottles before he was ready to press the cross against the bite. It didn't burn, but it tingled slightly, and he knew the wound wasn't clean yet. Another bottle, and this time, the pain wasn't nearly as blinding as before. It wasn't like having acid poured on his skin anymore – more like rubbing alcohol on an open wound. The cross pressed to his skin was cool and soothing this time, and he slumped in the tub, leaning his head back against the cool tiles. It was a while before he moved again.

***

After he disposed of the last of the ashes, he called Jason.

"It's done," his voice sounded tired even to himself.

"Are you bringing her here, to be cremated?"

"She was in St. Louis when I found her," he told Jason. "I took care of everything. It's all done." He could hear Jason drawing breath to reply, and simply hung up the phone. It was all done, he told the wolf. And he meant it. He would never go back to St. Louis again, never have anything to do with any of them again. It was done.


End file.
